


With You Through the Dark

by FreezingCold



Category: Napoleonic Era RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingCold/pseuds/FreezingCold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times the Emperor spent his nights with his Marshal, and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You Through the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Originally in Chinese. English is not my native language, so there must be some mistakes. Sorry.

May 9th

Exhausted! Damn Austrians never forget to burn bridges down once they cross the river, so we’ve been playing the roles of sapeurs-pompiers for some days. Marshal Bertheir send a message, reminding us to bring pontonniers. I read the letter to Marshal Lannes, and he sneered:’ The Major Général’s brain has nothing but bullshit. ’

The bridge is still under repair. Thank god, tonight we may have some relax. The Marshal set his headquarter at Benedictine- wish I’ got the spelling right- a monastery on the hill. It’s a nice place, where hospitable monks offered us delicious food and drinks. They have a large cellar, storing thousands of bottles of wine that have been preserved for years. I couldn’t help thank those Austrians, since they didn’t take wine away as Russians often do.

The Emperor came here too. He seemed to be in good-humor, drinking a lot. The Marshal also indulged himself in wine glasses. Guzzling wine, they kept jabbing their fingers on the large map stretching out on the whole table to discuss their next step. The Emperor didn’t bother to get his pins, using corks to represent army units instead. He popped a soft wooden cork on the map, saying tomorrow you should send General Saint-Hilaire to to crush this detachment. The Marshal took the order immediately, but grudged that he scarcely had reinforcements. The Emperor didn’t answer this complaint. He just laughed about and moved on to the next subject.

It was nearly midnight, but concerning military affairs, the two still have much to talk. So the Marshal told us aides-de-camp to have repose. The bed in the monastery feels so soft and comfortable, much better than straws!

 

May 13th

Vienna is ours! Feeble Austrians have been taking on symbolic defensives for some days, but finally they surrender their own capital. Following his habitual pattern, the Emperor held a pompous triumph entry, ostensibly riding around the whole city as if he were in Paris. Curiously, upon his entry, those Viennese applauded and cheered cordially, just like Parisians do in similar occasions. Have they forgotten their nationalities? However, General Tharreau didn’t have the Emperor’s luck. A housewife splashed a pot of hot water on him. So much was the pain that he nearly fell off his horse.

Of course Hapsburg princes ran away long before the capitulation—that’s what they always do. Therefore we barracked in their palaces simply without hesitation. Marshal Lannes took the one that belongs to Prince Albert of Saxe-Teschen. As one of the richest noblemen in Europe, Prince Albert has indeed a sumptuous and splendid mansion! Stepping into the palace, gold-gilded ceiling paintings, prodigious aggregate of antiques and treasures as well as classical furniture and utensils occupied my eyes. This is the most beautiful edifice I’ve ever seen in my life. Considering decoration at least, it tops Tuileries and Versailles. Each of us received a large luxurious bedroom, except the Marshal. The Emperor stayed at the suburban palace Schönbrunn and the Marshal visited him alone.

 

May 21st

We’re at Lobau, a small Island in the Danube. The river looks like a long range of chariots, firmly sweeping over the vast plain. There’s only one shabby wooden cabinet on Lobau. We did some casual clean job, strewing straws on the wet ground. Then the Marshal took the cabinet as his headquarter. The house was too small to hold anyone else besides the Emperor and the Marshal. We aides had to put up tents.

Although it’s summer, on Lobau, an island in the midst of the river, the air is quite moist. Somehow I felt cold, even though I already put my full set of uniforms on. So we lit a campfire near the headquarter, cuddling around it to keep warm. Albuquerque, a handsome young Spaniard began to talk about his traveling stories. We listened avidly, occasionally interrupting him to ask a few questions. We certainly knew the Emperor and the Marshal were sleeping in the cabinet, and we should lower down our voice in order not to bother them. But Albuquerque ’s story was so interesting that one simply couldn’t resist acclaiming and laughing. At first we all behaved cautiously. However, having forgotten that two great men were staying near by, we applauded and sang aloud as the story went into its high tide. From Ça Ira to La Victoire est à Nous, we sang again and again until retiring into our tents with worn-out bodies.

 

May 22nd

Albuquerque died. He was ordered to send a message to the barn, but no sooner had he set off than Austrians cut his head off with a cannon ball. The guy, talking and laughing with us last night, now lay on the street. It’ a pity that parents should say adieu to their children. What could his poor old father do?

Marshal Lannes quarreled with Marshal Bessières. I got involved in and was reproached by Marshal Bessières. If Marshal Massena hadn’t step in, they would definitely fight a dual. Someone reported this incident to the Emperor, and he summoned Marshal Lannes to dinner. So we aides had a simple meal.

 

May 31st

‘Marbot, do you remember my Louis? You know him. A naughty boy who enjoys colorful candies, just like you when you were a small boy…..’

'Of course I rememer this cute darling.’

I hold the Marshal’s hands firmly, withholding my tears, wide-eyed. Those hands, once fiery hot due to high fever, were as cold as the snow at Eylau. Should I call for Doctor Larrey or listen to him quitely? He had been suffereing from delusions for some time, but now recognized me. Was this a good omen or bad?

'He badgered me to tell war tales, just as you did. So I told him in fact I’m scared of wars. Only mad guys like fucking wars……Ah……’

The Marshal’s voice muted, and finally disappeared. I went petrified, with his head lying on my shoulder.

All over then?

Suddenly, memories of those days when we first met flashed in front of my eyes. He was a grenadier sous-lieutenant with messy hair, and I was too young to hold a musket. We enjoyed soldiering games , and he let me play his pistol without my father’s knowledge. I could see all those days very clearly, as if they just happened yesterday.

At last, I burst into tears. I cried not only for Marshal Lannes, but also for Albuquerque, for my father, for anyone else who has left me alone forever. I lay down the Marshal’s body carefully, tears running down my face.

A few moments later, the Emperor turned up as scheduled. I stopped him at the door, cautiously warning him not to go inside. But he simply pushed me away and rushed in. Even Marshal Berthier couldn’t hold him back.

So I stood quietly in the corner, staring out of the window. The sky was tinged with white, nothing else twinkling in it except the morning star.

 

Excerpts from Diary of Marcellin Marbot


End file.
